At Airport Terminals

Image source: Google via airportlink.com.au

 

At Airport Terminals

At airport terminals

All the good looking ones

Are taken

Or connected to

Their beloved through

A smartphone

Cradled in the collarbone hollow

As their arms

Balancing

Juggling

Move in a rhythm

Weighed with coffee cups

And hand luggage.

At the terminal

The naturally smiling attendant

Was refreshing as

In a no nonsense way

She handled the tasks

And assured the people

Spared the manufactured blonde

‘Highlights’

Her generous brown waves

Framed a

Face of care

What a pleasure to share

In her love

For job and people.

May her husband know

The goodness

Of his beloved.

At a terminal

We find our synchronicity:

In the grotty traveller

Transiting

Between terminals,

In the lover’s

Texting digits

Dancing across the screen

In anticipation

Of the doting dance

When they are

Reunited

Full and bodily

And there.

Yes, there

Is

An affinity

Between travellers

A share

In a passport

Of passage

Only they can know.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk 4 April 2018

 

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Lift Off To Flight

Lift Off To Flight
Whirr, whirr,

Rolling, rolling,

Faster and faster,

And up,

We lift.

Borne from the runway,

To climb and climb,

In time,

Through space,

At increasing pace,

To soar,

Above

The clouds,

And fields and flocks,

And rivers until

Sea and docks emerge

Below.

Then we know

The signal 

For descent.

But, Oh!

The joy

To fly free

Aloft and borne

In majesty.

Simon C.J. Falk 4 July 2017
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Who Trod These Paths and What are Their Tales?

Who Trod These Paths and What are Their Tales?

How many times have you heard the expression: “if only these walls could talk?”  I’ve had that thought about pathways, seaways, rivers and landforms. They hold stories.   Two paths in the images I included here hold stories of their own.  The poem tries to get a feel, however incompletely, for the story under the surface.

 

Who Trod These Paths and What are Their Tales?

Who trod these paths?

What voices do they give?

What are their tales?

How did they live?

First Picture: A scene from Pioneer Park Lookout, Griffith NSW, Australia.

(i)

Way back in the Dreamtime,

Shapes formed in the land,

Great marsupials and serpents,

Gathered as a band,

They came,

They ate,

They played,

They strayed,

And so began another day.

People came to tread upon

This earth with shoeless foot,

They hunted with the spear

And the boomerang they tossed.

They walked upon this hillside,

As to other lands

They crossed.

They communicated with message stick,

Traded food and skin,

They came across the white fella,

And now both dwell therein.

Tourists tread along this path,

And youngsters doin’ their thing,

In the grating of the gravel,

And the rustling leaves,

We hear their stories sing.

 

 

Second Picture: ancient gateway in the old city of Rhodes (Rodos) in the Greek Island group.

(ii)

Peoples disembarked upon this isle,

Greeks and Turks

If you please.

Add mixes of Italians,

Even the Maltese.

There were Spartans, sparsely clothed,

But tough and fierce and strong,

And Crusading knights

Who came to smite,

And hold their banquets long.

Fisher folk and traders,

The powerful and the slaves,

Those on land and waders,

The mature as well as knaves.

Battles won and lost here,

And even change of names,

From Rhodes to Rodos we hear

Tourists pronounce in ancient lanes.

Some gather for the markets,

Others for historic sights,

In busy tourist seasons,

Cafes and beaches

Are crowded in at nights.

But in the age-old pounding

Of waves from o’er the sea,

The archaic tales are sounding,

Of the indentured and the free,

Inviting into the story,

People

Like you and me.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk     30 October 2016

 

An Eventful Day #postingforpeace

An Eventful Day
Three towns

Two cities.

Three modes 

Of transport:

Train,

Plane,

And automobile

All, in one day.

Now the time has come

To rest a repose

Of dreams for

What a new day

May bring.

May peace be

Upon us.
Simon C.J. Falk 21 August 2016

Turkish Delight

Turkish Delight

Along with ‘In Instanbul‘ this poem celebrates memories of happy days spent in Turkey earlier this year.  The poem bounces off the sensual pleasures of Turkish Delight.

 

Turkish Delight

 

Soft and juicy,

Jelly so nice,

Encrusted in nuts,

Flavoured with spice.

Rosewater and nectars,

For colour and taste,

The flavours and memories,

I will not waste.

It’s part of the nourishment

The country gave to me,

The warm and the friendly,

The people of Turkey.

 

Simon C.J. Falk 1 July 2016

In #Istanbul

In Istanbul

April 2016 – Some friends and I spent some days in Istanbul Turkey as tourists cum pilgrims.  We loved it.  In recent days the sadness that has descended is crushing.  The good and hospitable people of Istanbul could well do with our encouragement.

 

In Istanbul

 

We travelled in,

We trod the streets,

We slopped the beer,

And ate the treats.

In the Bazaar Grand,

Some tried their hand,

At a haggle or two,

For a rug or a shoe.

And we loved our days,

On the ‘Gold Horn’ way.

They took us in.

Made us at home,

And it made us grin,

To see spruikers roam.

 

But the terminal we travelled,

Has now been unravelled,

Leaving crumble and rubble,

From the hateful trouble.

And streets we walked in peace,

Amidst crowds and police,

Now could appear,

To become pathways of fear.

But people! O people! Of Istanbul,

Do not lose heart when others kill,

Those you looked after

From far across sea,

Call out to you from a land roaming free.

You hosted us,

And we toasted you,

Do not let hatred or fuss,

Your spirit subdue.

Your history is splendid,

Your hospitality is fine,

When the hatred subsides,

You’ll return to your prime.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk 30 June 2016

 

Encounters in Holiday Time – Rodos or Rhodes

Encounters in Holiday Time – Rodos or Rhodes

For the lady in the markets

She seemed serious at first

But then helpful

Her face more concentrated, focused

Than serious.

“No, I’m not the boss

“I cannot make it cheaper

“But then maybe I can be boss.”

We joked then

About the responsibilities

Of being boss.

She may not have seen the subtext

That I have been a ‘boss’.

We chatted away about exchange rates 

Etcetera, etcetera

But focused on each

Her furrowed brow, strong eyes.

There was another subtext.

Might it be attraction?
Simon C.J. Falk 9 May 2016

Accent

Accent
Crackling PA system

Cackling passengers

And engine

noise fill

The cabin 

And our ears.

An accented voice

Friendly and helpful

Tries to send

Its message to passengers.

I cannot decipher 

The message from the din

Of what resounds

On my ears within.

Now I grasp –  

But barely – 

How those who migrate

Have to cope

In understanding 

The message

In the cacophony of noise.

Simon C.J. Falk 4 May 2016

Transit

A poem on the go while traveling.
Transit
Swollen feet bear

Smelly bodies along

Terminals

Where, termite like hordes

Of people

Swarm.

Take us from arrival gate,

To the next adventure we await,

Take us to the welcome shower,

And liquid refreshment of effervescent power,

As we settle, we have simple need,

Some company, atmosphere 

And a place to feed.
Simon C.J. Falk 27 April 2016